


La Palabra

by Waldo



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-18
Updated: 2009-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waldo/pseuds/Waldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I expected to see tea.  In a bag.  A tea. bag. Bagging tea, yes?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Palabra

**Author's Note:**

> For those not in the U.S. or not aware of what was happening here at the time I wrote this fic: A group of political activists wanted to get together and protest the US tax system. And apparently they looked back into history and went, "Ooh, hey! The Boston Tea Party! Those guys understood our pain. So we'll name ourselves after them and be 'teabaggers'." Only, well, that was already a word... one that has nothing at all to do with protesting or taxes. (<http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=teabagger>) Then there was a discussion on the Yahoogroup about what would happen if Ziva heard about this and Annie dared me... so I dared her to beta (which, thankfully, she did. :) It came in around 1000 words, so I also tweaked it to fit in with [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/ncis1000words/profile)[**ncis1000words**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/ncis1000words/)'s West Wing challenge.

"No, no, no. This can _not_ be right!" Ziva muttered as she stabbed viciously at her keyboard.

"Typing harder does not make it go faster," McGee warned from his desk. He was the one who'd be stuck fixing it if she broke something, so he felt it was warranted.

"_It_," Ziva spit out, "is going fast enough, but what it is telling me makes no sense at all." Ziva gave her monitor a thump, despite McGee's warning.

McGee stood and crossed to her cubical. "What's wrong?"

Ziva pushed her desk chair back. Certainly McGee could make it spit out something that actually answered her query. "On my way to work this morning I heard part of a news story about many people gathering near the ocean today to protest your government by 'teabagging'. In Israel we do not have protests such as these, so I was thinking of going to observe how your police force handles such an event. But when I googled 'teabagging' –"

"Whoa, whoa, what?!" Tony said as he came around the corner, a stack of folders under one arm. "You're googling… you're looking up _what_ at work, Officer David?" Tony dropped the stack of folders on his desk and scurried over to stand behind McGee and peer over his shoulder. "You having boyfriend trouble?"

"I didn't mean to look up _that_" Ziva pointed an accusing finger at the computer, "I expected to see, tea. In a bag. A tea. bag. Bagging tea, yes? I did not think…" Ziva petered out and sighed before collecting herself.

Tony was biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Ziva let out a huff. "Am I mistaken in thinking that in your country's history there was some significant event about dropping tea leaves into the ocean?"

"It was called the Boston Tea Party," Gibbs put in as he came back from his coffee run. "It was a protest against British taxation."

DiNozzo and McGee practically tripped over each other as they raced back for their own desks, to put as much distance between themselves and Ziva's search as humanly possible.

In his haste, Tony misjudged his chair, hitting only the edge and then the floor, still laughing even as he realized his chin had just missed the edge of the desk. Having to go to Ducky for stitches in his lip could have been embarrassing.

Probably not as embarrassing as the conversation Ziva was about to have with Gibbs, though, Tony thought as he climbed back into his chair.

He pretended to check his email, while waiting to see if Ziva had enough of a sense of self-preservation to drop this conversation before things got worse.

"Alright then. Can someone please explain to me what protesting taxes has to do with a man putting his scrotum in someone's mouth?"

The normal hustle and bustle of the squadroom came to a sudden halt and a couple of guys from the other side of the room stood up to see where that remark had come from.

Ziva turned around and leveled them with a glare.

Before the portended bloodshed could begin, Gibbs let out a terse growl, "Don't any of you have anything to do? If you don't, I promise I can find you something. I'm sure Dr. Mallard's drawers could use a good cleaning out. With a toothbrush."

Tony actually moved his monitor to hide his face as his twelve-year-old mentality took that in every way Gibbs didn't mean it. He was so going to get slapped in the back of the head before this conversation could end. And he hadn't said a word!

Everyone else quickly went back to work.

Gibbs looked at Ziva and pointed to the front of his desk. Ziva immediately went and stood where he pointed so that the whole room would no longer be privy to their conversation.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said as Tony tried to look busy.

"Yes, boss?" Tony quit his fake-typing and looked around the edge of his screen.

Gibbs pointed to a space next to Ziva.

He rose and stood in the indicated spot, though he wasn't sure why he suddenly had to be a part of this conversation.

He gave a grimace and yelped, "What did I do?" when Gibbs brought the edge of his hand in contact with the back of Tony's head.

"You have the maturity of an eight-year-old," Gibbs said before pointing him back to his desk.

Tony sat, sulking. He was pretty sure only McGee heard him mutter that Gibbs had to have been one _hell_ of an advanced eight year old if he knew what 'teabagging' was way back then.

Tony heard Gibbs clear his throat before saying softly, "Apparently there's been a bit of a generational gap. The political activists I assume you're talking about, clearly didn't know there was a slang use among the younger generation for the word they adopted. One has nothing to do with the other."

"We hope," McGee put in from his desk, a quick flush moving up his neck and face as he realized he'd voiced the thought aloud.

Ziva turned to him, glad to have someone else in the conversation. "Well, it did seem to be a little confusing that people would use a particular sex act to protest taxes. I have noticed that Americans like to put different taxes on everything, but I had not yet heard of having to pay a fee for having any kind of sex, let alone one particular kind."

Tony was biting his fist now, holding back his laughter, trying not to make eye-contact with Gibbs, even though he could feel Gibbs' glare.

"Not to mention," Ziva added, "All that sex on the beach would be quite unsanitary."

"Yeah and all that sand in places sand just doesn't belong," Tony added. He just couldn't help himself.

Ziva turned her attention back to Gibbs. "Well, since we are not currently assigned to a case," she said with determination, her back straight, her eyes forward like she was reporting to a military commander, "I would like to go and see this display of teabagging."

Gibbs slapped a hand over his face and shook his head as he saw who had just entered the bullpen. "She's talking about the protests, Leon. _Just_ the tax protests… oh the hell with it.   Ziva, go." It was easier than hashing out the linguistic issues.


End file.
